


At 4 o'clock it's dark

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Hypothermia, Winter, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: Because many cold things were blue, like the sky and the sea and ice with almost no air in it, it would make sense for cold to be blue, but it wasn’t
Relationships: Havelock Vetinari & Samuel Vimes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	At 4 o'clock it's dark

“As I have effectively been playing Clacks Operator between you and the Thieves Guild, I have taken the liberty of scheduling—“ It was clear now that Vetinari was shivering and his fingernails and lips appeared blue.

Vimes was wearing several layers under his armor and had his sock-scarf draped around his neck

“Sir,” Vimes said, interrupting, “when did you last leave the Palace?”

“Excuse me?”

“The ambient air temperature in here is only a few degrees above freezing.” There must be more coal or wood somewhere in the Palace, and there were blankets that could be brought and sugar that could be added to herbal tea.

Vimes had learned early on how to get people warm again even if they’d stopped shivering. It had been a necessity on Cockbill Street where soap and paint came before heat and food. Havelock was still shivering, which was a good sign, but it was clearly exhausting him. 

Vetinari tucked his hands into the fabric of his robes. It was upsetting to think that his tolerance for cold had fallen off so obviously, but it was true, he was ill and had poor circulation. He could not continue like this. 

“How long?” Vimes asked again. “Since you were somewhere warm?”

“Few days.”

“Let’s get you some blankets.”

Vimes left the office through the side door. He picked a bedroom at random and pulled the two blankets off the bed.

When he returned Vetinari’s eyes were closed.

“Are you able to stand up?”

Vimes put the blankets around his shoulders and he started shivering again.

“I’m going to carry you to a room that’s easier to heat. I don’t want you to be startled.”

Carrying Vetinari over his shoulder would hurt him, so Vimes put his arm behind his back and the other under his legs and picked him up that way.

He opened his eyes but didn’t move to hold on.

“If you had told me twenty-five years ago that I would be looking after the Patrician because he spent days in an unheated room I would have thought you were out of your mind.”

“An odd expression. Not especially accurate to any experience except perhaps some forms of dissociation. Blackouts are one thing, but that’s not forming memories.”

“It’s a colloquialism.” Vimes was glad Vetinari felt up to nitpicking. He must be in quite a bit of pain. His entire body seemed to be shivering, but if it wasn’t he suspected he would feel like he was carrying a corpse.

The cold metal of Vimes’ armor burned through the fabric of Vetinari’s robes, hard and almost sharp.

Vimes set him down in the nearest bedroom to the Oblong Office, the same one he had carried him to when he had been poisoned. Vimes covered him in blankets gently so there was air between the layers.

Vetinari put his hands together under his neck. This maybe wasn’t the best idea, since they were freezing, but even the seams of the fabric of the blankets felt like razor blades.

“You must think I’m stupid,” he mumbled into the pillow. It wasn’t a thought that had previously had cause to occur to him with regard to Vimes. Or had it?

“Never.” If Vimes had to make a more substantial case arguing that point later, he would, but there were more pressing concerns to attend to. “I’m going build a fire. If I put sugar in tea will you drink it?”

Vetinari shook his head.

“Honey?”

He held up a shaking finger and thumb close together.

“I’ll do that.”

Vimes didn’t want to leave him to get the firewood and tea, but the staff of the Palace were downstairs in the few rooms that were warm and Drumknott was away this week.

When he came back, it appeared that the only reason Vetinari was awake was that he was too uncomfortable to fall asleep.

“Stay with me here.”

“I know. Need to…”

“Yes. You need to stay awake. Drink the tea while I get the fire going.”

Because many cold things were blue, like the sky and the sea and ice with almost no air in it, it would make sense for cold to be blue, but it wasn’t, it was a red-orange fractal of lines in a sea of dullness. The tea helped drive it back somewhat, even as he cringed at the sweetness. Havelock was not too concerned about not liking the flavor, except that he’d tried some of the dark chocolate in his desk the other day and found it disgustingly sugary.

Heat from the fire was gradually permeating the air of the room.

Vimes unbuckled his armor, set it on the ground and climbed onto the bed. “How are you doing now?” he asked.

“Everything feels slow… thoughts feel slow. Time feels slow. My stomach hurts.”

Vimes knew perfectly well that Vetinari had a comprehensive understanding of hypothermia, so he did not comment on this.

In the past, when he had looked after him, Vimes had wanted Vetinari to say thank you or acknowledge in some way what he was doing for him, but looking at him now, small blue eyes staring at nothing from under a sweep of grey-black hair, breath deepening in the warming air, he wondered how he had come to such an expectation except that Vetinari had always provided recompense for necessities while demanding only what he thought the city needed. If Vetinari said thank you now, Vimes would say he didn’t need to. 


End file.
